CAT Chapter 31: Anchored Without Meaning (7)

Lin Si took the tool from his assistant and first disinfected the skin on Ling Yi’s nape.

The alcohol evaporated, cooling the skin, leaving a chilly sensation on his nape. Then Ling Yi felt Lin Si’s fingertips on that spot, applying pressure. “Relax, it won’t hurt.”

Ling Yi pouted. No matter how good Lin Si’s needle technique was, he would still feel it.

Especially since, due to his modifications, Ling Yi was extremely sensitive to all kinds of tactile sensations. When a needle pierced his skin, the sensation would be very intense.

Lin Si found the correct spot, placed the needle close to the skin, and then quickly—jabbed it in.

The assistant handed over a securing device, a small silver-colored patch, which not only prevented the probe from falling off but also stopped it from sliding too deep into the skin due to body movement, potentially causing an accident.

Lin Si fixed the patch in place and asked Ling Yi, “Is it okay?”

“Uh… it’s fine,” Ling Yi replied.

Lin Si looked at him, seeing the clear look of seeking reassurance in Ling Yi’s eyes, and lowered his head, gently tapping his forehead against Ling Yi’s. “Good.”

Ling Yi closed his eyes like a kitten being groomed and then relaxed a little.

The Colonel, “…”

Why was he treated so roughly when getting a needle? Hmm?

Once all the probes were implanted and secured, the exoskeletal structure opened up, enveloping Ling Yi inside.

The mechanic remotely assisted Ling Yi to stand up.

“Don’t make any large movements yet, just get used to the controls,” Zheng Shu said.

The design of the exoskeletal structure was to eliminate all complex systems and operations, allowing the human brain to directly control this nearly three-meter-tall mechanical body, which contained thousands of components.

The user had to learn to command the machinery with their consciousness, just like directing their own limbs.

In other words, the probes extended the person’s neural network, connecting it to another mechanical body. This way, the user could achieve many things that humans couldn’t do due to physiological limitations.

— Like the Colonel, who couldn’t walk steadily, a typical case of his body not being coordinated. Not only could he not do things he couldn’t do before, but he even forgot how to do things he could usually do.

Ling Yi cautiously raised his hand.

The mechanical arm responded simultaneously, lifting Ling Yi’s arm upward with force.

Ling Yi tried several times, but the speed of the mechanical arm never slowed down.

“Actually, it’s already quite good,” Sveena smiled, “Our Colonel here, when he raised his hand for the first time, couldn’t stop it in time and ended up hitting his own head.”

Ling Yi thought about that scene and couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t control it by moving your hand,” Lin Si said, “Just focus on operating the machine.”

— How should he operate it?

Was he supposed to make no physical movement and simply tell his brain to move the machine?

Ling Yi stood still, thought for a moment, closed his eyes, and tried to forget his hand, focusing on making that movement.

The mechanical arm lifted his arm again.

— No, it was still too fast. Once it was raised, it lost control.

Ling Yi continued trying over and over again.

Meanwhile, the mechanics were recording and analyzing the data.

Finally, after an unknown number of attempts, Ling Yi suddenly felt a moment where his arm and the mechanical arm fused into one!

The sensation was like a sudden flash of insight, fleeting. In the next moment, it returned to the dissonance between his arm and the machine, but Ling Yi held onto that feeling firmly.

He recalled that miraculous moment of fusion, closed his eyes again, and tried to forget his arm, forget himself.

Soon after, he captured that feeling once more!

Lin Si, who was watching the instruments, noticed the moment when the neural signals and the mechanical signals overlapped.

“Great,” he said to Ling Yi, “Keep going.”

The other exoskeletal units also began their own adaptation exercises.

After capturing that feeling several more times, Ling Yi felt its duration had increased slightly. The longest time lasted nearly half a second.

He carefully sensed that feeling—it was incredibly relaxing, as if his bodily limitations were broken, and his brain no longer focused on the separation between himself and the external world. The mechanical exoskeleton became a part of his body.

But it had only happened due to the repeated actions. How could he actively enter that state?

He needed to relax, truly relax, and trust this machine, just like…

— Just like when Lin Si held him.

If seen from another angle, this exoskeletal structure was Lin Si’s research achievement, and those probes, which transmitted neural signals, were also Lin Si’s design.

Of course, he could fully trust it and accept it as part of his own life…

Ling Yi closed his eyes, feeling as if he were submerged in a warm, boundless ocean.

His sense of touch extended infinitely, so much so that he forgot his own form.

At the same time, Lin Si focused on the interface before him.

Several mechanics gathered around, also looking at the interface.

They were stunned, mouths agape.

The two waveform curves, which had been oscillating separately, only occasionally synchronizing, were now slowly approaching synchronization.

Ling Yi raised his hand.

The speed and range of the motion were completely normal, just like a regular person.

Then, he carefully curled his finger joints.

— Then, he tentatively took a step.

The step wasn’t perfectly steady, but at least he didn’t lose coordination.

He wobbled towards Lin Si, like a child just learning to walk.

Lin Si shifted his gaze from the interface and said, “Be careful.”

Even though he knew the machine could handle it, he was still a bit worried that Ling Yi might fall—not because of the machine, but…

It was probably like how parents on Earth feel when their child first learns to walk. They always nervously watch, afraid the child will stumble, right?

When he first started taking care of Ling Yi, though he had no memory, Ling Yi could already run, jump, and take care of himself. Now, watching him wobbly learn to move was like making up for a small regret.

Ling Yi walked over to Lin Si, and Lin Si extended his hand toward him. Ling Yi bent slightly at the waist, reaching out to lightly touch Lin Si’s hand.

The mechanics nearby were not stingy with their praise. “You did great.”

Lin Si said, “Come, take a break.”

Adapting to the exoskeletal structure required extreme concentration and was very energy-consuming in the early stages, so it couldn’t be done for long periods—especially for Ling Yi, whose body was still growing. He needed to be more cautious, not overexerting himself. Lin Si usually let him sleep as long as he wanted, and now, he definitely wouldn’t let him stay in the exoskeletal structure for too long.

He controlled the exoskeletal structure to open, and Ling Yi jumped down.

He was indeed a little tired, with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, but his spirits were high. His little face was flushed, and as soon as he jumped down, he ran over to sit next to Lin Si, hugging his arm and leaning against him.

Lin Si pulled him over and gently rubbed his arm.

The Colonel also came out of the exoskeletal structure, casting a jealous glance at Ling Yi. He then performed some relaxation exercises to stretch his stiff limbs.

“What you’ll practice today is this,” Zheng Shu said to them, “This is the simplest part. Once you get the hang of it, you’ll move on to adapting to the other functions of the exoskeleton.”

Treating the exoskeletal structure as part of the body and performing basic movements like walking, running, and jumping is the foundation for using the exoskeletal function, but that’s far from the full purpose of the exoskeleton. The exoskeleton is equipped with countless instruments, devices, and even weapons, all of which must be able to be activated with the user’s thoughts.

In other words, not only must your brain accept that the skeleton is part of your body, but you also have to learn to control the complex functions that have never been part of human understanding of their own body!

After hearing Zheng Shu’s brief explanation, the Colonel suddenly got excited.

“Mr. Zheng, so what you mean is—” the Colonel stretched out his hand. “The weapons you’ve equipped on the exoskeleton, will I be able to control them completely with my mind? Like, if I just look at a target, I can attack it?”

“In theory, yes,” Zheng Shu answered. “The auto-targeting system will respond once it detects your neural signals. When we reach this phase of testing, we’ll do field exercises on the surface, and you can get a feel for it.”

The Colonel was quite satisfied. Though he still couldn’t walk steadily, it seemed like he was already imagining himself wearing the combat suit and going on a rampage like Iron Man from Earth’s movies.

“As long as we solve the material supply issue, all the Limitless transformed bodies can be equipped with the exoskeleton, and we can select from regular soldiers, maybe some with exceptional talent,” Zheng Shu mused. “But the material problem is huge right now. We’ve never encountered such a problem during our travels. Actually, it’s not hard to solve, we just need to mine from another planet, but Zone 2 hasn’t taken action…”

The prospects of the exoskeleton were brilliant, but if there was no adequate material supply, and it could only be used on a small scale, its effectiveness would be greatly reduced.

When Zheng Shu mentioned this, Lin Si suddenly remembered something.

“About this, Madam Chen said it’s hard to explain in one or two sentences. She’s scheduled to meet me this afternoon.”

“She probably has her own considerations,” Zheng Shu nodded.

“Perhaps Madam Chen wants to wait until we’ve fine-tuned the exoskeleton, so we can use it for the mining project and test its performance?” 

“Colonel, right now we only have five exoskeletal samples, and we can’t make more,” Lin Si said coolly. “Do you think Madam Chen would delay the mining plan because of this?”

The Colonel, “…”

Zheng Shu said, “Let’s wait a bit longer. Here, we’ll test the skeleton, and then we’ll start working on the neuron chips. Has Su Ting arrived?”

“Give her a bit more time,” Lin Si said lightly. “I contacted Adelaide to help Su Ting with her emotional state.”

Zheng Shu nodded.

After a short break, they resumed the tests and exercises. It was a two-way process—people needed to adapt to the machines, and the machines would adjust and improve based on the test results to make the usage more convenient.

So the Colonel was busy, Ling Yi was busy, and the mechanics were busy.

Lin Si, however, had become the most idle person in the room.

He hadn’t had such a period of doing nothing in a long time and was momentarily unsure of what to do.

— So when Ling Yi took another break, he saw Lin Si chatting with Tang Ning.

But, of course, when these two talked, it wasn’t about topics like “What did you eat today?”

Ling Yi, very curious, watched their conversation. He could only tell they were discussing something called the “Heisenberg-Bandner issue,” but the rest was all a mystery to him.

“Tang Ning has been borrowed by Zone 1 for the past few days,” Lin Si explained to Ling Yi, noticing his curiosity. “He doesn’t know much about high-energy physics, and now he’s asking me about a concept.”

Ling Yi nodded.

“Lin Si is really all-around,” Zheng Shu said, pouring himself a cup of water and sitting down across from him. “He was the most legendary person in school.”

“Tang Ning is much smarter than me,” Lin Si said, typing as he spoke. “Zheng-ge, do you remember that IMO?”

“Of course I do,” Zheng Shu laughed. “Our Dr. Lin was never that frustrated.”

Ling Yi tilted his head curiously.

“At that time, Adelaide was studying in Berlin, and Lin Si was working in a laboratory there. It just so happened that I had a project as well, so the three of us shared an apartment,” Zheng Shu began explaining to Ling Yi slowly. “IMO—Earth’s most prestigious international mathematics competition—was being held in Berlin that year. We were all still students, with plenty of free time. One of the question setters was a friend of Lin Si’s, and he invited him to join.”

“We went together, and when the competition started, we also got the questions in the background. The topics in this competition weren’t elementary mathematics, but they didn’t go too deep into advanced topics either, such as combinatorics and number theory. In short… it was largely testing your IQ and the way your brain works. I knew some of it, but couldn’t come up with the answers. Adelaide, being a psychology major, just came to join the fun. He couldn’t even understand the questions, so in the end, it was just Lin Si writing the answers,” Zheng Shu laughed and squinted his eyes in reminiscence. “There were three problems, with a time limit of five hours. I remember Lin Si spent over two hours on it, and then his friend came over and said, ‘Lin, do you think anyone could finish faster than you?’ Lin Si, completely unconcerned, said, ‘How could that be?'”

Zheng Shu glanced teasingly at Lin Si, who also gave a faint smile in return.

“He was right,” Zheng Shu continued, “The calculations and proofs, even if someone didn’t think at all and just copied down the process, would still take over two hours.”

Ling Yi asked curiously, “So what happened in the end?”

“In the end,” Lin Si absentmindedly stroked Ling Yi’s hair, “Tang Ning was on the UK team that year, so…”

“So, he finished faster than you?”

“When I was done backstage, he had already been asleep for an hour and a half.” Lin Si said.

“But didn’t you say copying the process would take two hours?”

“He couldn’t be bothered to write the process. He just wrote three conclusions on the sheet, then went to sleep.” Zheng Shu added, “At that point, Lin Si just wanted to knock on his head.”

“There were more than three conclusions,” Lin Si wrapped his arm around Ling Yi, typing as he added, “There were a few words of explanation at the beginning—‘observed.’“

“Tang Ning was twelve at that time,” Zheng Shu said. “As soon as the competition ended, Lin Si blocked him and asked him about his problem-solving approach. Tang Ning calmly said, ‘Isn’t it obvious?'”

— Genius sometimes behaves in ways that are entirely different from ordinary people.

Lin Si continued, “After that, we got to know each other. When Tang Ning was thawed, he was fourteen, and he always followed Zheng-ge.”

Ling Yi nodded slightly. “Tang Ning told me about it.”

“He actually told you that?” Zheng Shu said, surprised. “I thought he never interacted with anyone, let alone chatted.”

“Ling Yi has good relationships with everyone,” Lin Si said, poking Ling Yi’s nose. “He runs off to play with others every day behind my back.”

“But you’re always busy!” Ling Yi countered, wrapping his arms around Lin Si’s neck.

“Alright, I admit it’s my fault.”

Ling Yi stubbornly turned his head away, ignoring him, but still held tightly onto Lin Si.

The Colonel looked up from the Snake game interface and saw the scene, clicking his tongue several times.

— It hasn’t even been long since they last met, and they’re already back together.

Ling Yi, however, felt a little displeased.

— A little thing that’s been pampered and doted on by everyone suddenly hears stories about Tang Ning’s legendary achievements at fourteen and gets hit with the idea of “the perfect child” from someone else’s life that he’s never encountered before.

But— Lin Si definitely still preferred him, and Tang Ning, who helped him solve calculus problems that Lin Si gave him, and created Lucia and Vivian, was really, really impressive. Thinking that, Ling Yi stopped worrying.

After finishing the topic about Tang Ning, Zheng Shu recalled the SSS project from Zone 1 that had blocked most of their materials halfway. “I think Tang Ning was borrowed because of that SSS project. Do you know what project it is?”

“If it involves the Heisenberg issue¹, it should be related to antimatter,” Lin Si said. “If Zone 1 has made progress in antimatter weapons, it’s no wonder they were able to requisition the materials we had planned for.”

Zheng Shu nodded thoughtfully.

The Colonel, who was very enthusiastic about weapons, immediately perked up. “What is it?”

“What happens when you add positive and negative numbers?” Lin Si asked casually.

Although the Colonel’s math level wasn’t high, he still knew the answer. “…Anything is possible?”

“What about in special cases?”

“Zero.”

The Colonel was pleased. It was rare for him to answer Lin Si’s question so smoothly.

“Back in the 1950s on Earth, our predecessors mastered the technology to simulate the Big Bang, which was the precursor to Zone 1’s cosmic simulator. But no matter what, the simulation results were always wrong,” Lin Si explained to the attentive Colonel and Ling Yi. “This suggested we might have missed an important parameter, so the hypothesis was proposed that there exists some kind of matter in the universe that we can’t observe, called antimatter², while the matter we can observe is called normal matter. When the antimatter content in the simulator reached more than ninety times that of normal matter, the simulator produced the correct result: the universe was born.”

“In other words, the universe is actually filled with antimatter, and all of our instruments and eyes can only see normal matter, which is just one percent of the cosmic iceberg.”

“Th…” The colonel was a bit stunned and asked, “Then… how can it be used as a weapon?”

“If we can bring antimatter into the real world, as a weapon, we could launch some antimatter at the enemy or something else — they will all be made of regular matter, and when regular matter and antimatter meet, it’s like adding positive and negative numbers together — nothing will be left.”

“Annihilation, from matter to energy, not a trace left, escaping the law of conservation of energy,” Zheng Shu added.

Ling Yi’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

“The mass-energy conversion rate of thermonuclear weapons is 0.7%, while antimatter weapons are 100%. If we could really create this, Zones 5 and 6 would be willing to provide the materials,” Lin Si said.

“It’s too difficult. The bigger problem is the danger,” Zheng Shu shook his head. “From extraction to storage, it’s all a blind spot in current science. And while we can solve nuclear accidents, if something goes wrong with antimatter, the entire Voyager will be annihilated.”

The colonel stretched his limbs. “With mechas and superweapons, you scientists are amazing. Why didn’t you all work on this during the voyage?”

“At that time, our goal was survival,” Lin Si responded, unusually not retorting to the colonel’s words. “Once we had a home, we would try our best to protect it.”

The colonel was moved. “Doctor, you finally sounded like a human.”

Lin Si gave a half-smile and didn’t respond.

The colonel sensed danger was near, shrank his neck, and ran off to continue practicing with his exoskeleton.

Ling Yi looked at Lin Si.

He realized more clearly than ever before that Lin Si was actually a very good, very gentle person.

“From the conversation between Lin Si and Zheng Shu earlier, it was clear that they were still very young, before they faced the harsh events and disasters that would come later. What would they have been like? 

Lin Si, who smiled often, confident and full of vitality, and Lin Si, who blocked others to question their thought process when they solved problems faster than him.

Ling Yi didn’t know, but he knew that such a Lin Si must have been very good, the kind of good that no adjective could fully describe.

At that moment, Lin Si’s wristband beeped. It was a schedule reminder — he had to go see Madam Chen.

“I have to go,” he said to Zheng Shu.

“Mm, go ahead,” Zheng Shu replied.

“Ling Yi’s practice time is long enough, he can come again tomorrow.”

Zheng Shu nodded in understanding.

Ling Yi was taken away by Lin Si, while the colonel continued practicing hard. He was very jealous.

— Children with parents are always given special treatment because of the love they receive, but the poor colonel just couldn’t grasp this concept.

“I’m going to Zone 1 to find Madam Chen,” Lin Si said, holding Ling Yi’s hand as they walked down the corridor. “Would you like to go see Su Ting with Adelaide? I’ve arranged for her to stay in Bethy’s room.”

— Bethy’s room was right next door to Lin Si and Ling Yi’s room.

Ling Yi nodded slightly. “Sure.”

“Mm, thank you.”

Ling Yi smiled at Lin Si.

Lin Si ruffled his hair.

After walking for a while, just as they were about to part at a fork in the road, Ling Yi suddenly said, “Lin Si.”

“Mm?”

“You haven’t finished telling me about what happened on Earth, about when you got the message from the Voyager.”

“Mm… After Ye Selin left for half a day, I got the message from the Voyager. The virus broke out on the ship.”

“And then?”

“At that time, our hyperspace navigation technology wasn’t stable, so we needed to rely on the force field generated by natural wormholes in the universe. And the risk of passing through a wormhole was high. According to the analysis, at a certain time that day, the activity of the wormhole was most favorable for navigation, and the Voyager had to enter hyperspace during that time period.”

Ling Yi nodded slightly, not fully understanding what this meant, but just responding with an “Mm” to show he was listening.

“The Voyager required me to bring the core personnel from the Wilkins laboratory, along with all the research results, into Zone 6, to conquer the virus in the shortest time possible.”

“You said back then that we were so close to solving the virus,” Ling Yi said.

“That’s right, we were about to figure out how to tackle the third-generation virus,” Lin Si responded.

Ling Yi suddenly widened his eyes!

Lin Si said calmly, “The Voyager had gathered the most outstanding people at the time. They had made up their minds to leave this resource-depleted planet, which was no longer suitable for the continuation of human civilization due to war and viruses. The spacecraft’s navigation program had been set, and it had to enter the wormhole within half an hour. But then, a virus had broken out on the ship that could kill everyone. Ye Selin was also infected. I had always considered her a mother to me. But our home planet was overrun with the virus, and billions of people were about to die.”

He looked into Ling Yi’s eyes. “…If you were me back then, what would you choose?”

Ling Yi froze.

“I…” He shook his head in a daze. “I don’t know how to choose.”

“But in that kind of situation, you had to choose immediately. You couldn’t waste time hesitating over the virus research,” Lin Si said. “I chose to stay on Earth.”

“Then…”

“I did make a choice, but the Voyager didn’t give me the freedom to choose. The entire Wilkins Lab was forcibly brought aboard the ship. All those confirmed to be infected on the Voyager, led by Ye Selin, voluntarily left the ship to slow down the spread of the virus and buy time for the lab to find a cure.”

“Later, we did develop a treatment and vaccine—The Berlin virus was a gene virus accidentally mutated in the Berlin Lab during genetic modification experiments. I spent two years there, and the treatment was based on their approach—a gene repair drug that could cure early infections. The ship was saved.”

“But by then, the Voyager had already re-established communication with Earth,” Lin Si’s eyes seemed to darken, and he paused for a moment, as though struggling to continue. “Not long after we found a way to overcome the third-generation virus, the Berlin virus on Earth mutated four times. Its onset time was shortened, and it spread faster. Animals started getting infected. No one could find a solution. So, for all these years, we’ve assumed that Earth has been completely destroyed.”

Ling Yi didn’t know what to say to comfort Lin Si. He reached out and gently placed his fingers near Lin Si’s eyes, as if wiping away unseen tears.

Lin Si didn’t cry, but Ling Yi could tell he was deeply grieving.

“I often wonder… if I had put in a little more effort, worked a few more nights… could we have developed the cure before the Voyager set off? If we had, billions of people on Earth wouldn’t have died. Ye Selin wouldn’t have died. She would still be alive. And you wouldn’t have lost your mother.”

Lin Si saw Ye Selin’s figure in front of him.

She stood behind a thick glass wall, smiling at him. Her face was pale, drained of blood because of the virus, but that couldn’t take away the gentle, vast aura she radiated.

She coughed a few times, and the white handkerchief she used to cover her mouth was stained with blood.

“Lin,” she said softly, “the people on the ship are in your hands now. I convinced all the infected people to leave the ship to buy time for your work.” She smiled at him. “Don’t be afraid, don’t feel guilty about leaving the people on Earth behind. It’s not your fault. I will always protect you.”

She glanced at Lin Si one last time before turning to leave.

At that moment, Lin Si watched her white figure fade away, tears streaming down his face.

Ling Yi reached out and hugged Lin Si tightly, slowly tightening his embrace and closing his eyes.

The past was so broken, and words seemed powerless in the face of such pain.

After a long silence, he finally spoke. “But we’re getting better. Ye Selin isn’t here, but I will protect you for her.”

Lin Si squeezed his face gently, lowered his head, and lightly kissed his forehead.

Ling Yi’s ears turned a little red.

“Later, many people in the lab chose to be cryogenically frozen, hoping never to wake up. Because we all felt we were the ones who caused the deaths of billions of people on Earth,” Lin Si said. “And no one who knew the truth ever mentioned it again because it was so disgraceful. The Voyager’s mission was to preserve human civilization, but it did so at the cost of accelerating Earth’s destruction.”

Because of the silence surrounding the past, the ship was filled with all kinds of speculation, misunderstanding, and hatred.

A ship, sailing in dangerous waters full of reefs, could sink at any time. Conflicts could exist within the crew, and infighting could happen. But the sails must always be raised high, and the ship must always sail forward.

So, this was a truth that couldn’t be spoken. People had to believe that the Voyager had always been a noble and righteous savior, in order to maintain the belief in moving forward during the hundreds of years of solitary drifting.

“Should Su Ting know?” Ling Yi asked.

“No need, she will find a reason she can accept to believe,” Lin Si said.

Ling Yi nodded.

Lin Si glanced at the time. It was getting late. He said to Ling Yi, “We should go.”

“Mm,” Ling Yi replied. “But you need to come back early tonight.”

Lin Si ruffled his hair. “Mm.”

“Lin,” Madam Chen greeted him.

“Good afternoon, Madam Chen.”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Lin Si sat down at Madam Chen’s desk, and she immediately got to the point.

“I called you over because there’s something important I’d like your opinion on,” she said.

“Mm,” Lin Si replied.

“In the past month, I’ve really wanted to thaw out some sociologists or economists to help me make some decisions, because the current situation is very complicated,” Madam Chen said, her fingers crossed on the desk. She paused for a moment, then continued, “But there are very few of these experts aboard the ship, and some of them died with Zone 4. They’re a scarce resource, so I don’t want to use them carelessly.”

Lin Si asked, “What decision are you referring to?”

“I feel like we’re developing in an imbalanced way,” Mrs. Chen said. “Science is progressing rapidly, and military strength has been steadily increasing, but all we have are scientists and soldiers. No matter how many people we thaw out, they’ll just be more scientists and soldiers.”

Lin Si found this sentiment familiar. Bethy had said something similar before she chose to go into cryo. Coming from a political and business background, Bethy always had her own perspective on things.

So, Lin Si asked, “Why do you think that?”

“Because we lack the means of production,” Mrs. Chen explained. “The Voyager provides food and materials, and then distributes them—this has been our way of life during the journey. But now that we’ve landed, we could live like regular people—but we can’t.”

She sighed before continuing, “This planet is too barren to farm. There’s no agriculture, no commerce, no way to develop manufacturing, and there’s no possibility of these things in the future. So, our lives can only continue as they are: everything gathered, produced, and managed by the Voyager, and then distributed centrally. Only scientists and soldiers have value, but their work is not rewarded. It’s just a responsibility they have to fulfill. What happens when, one day, you all lose your passion and ideals? Will we live mechanically? I see the shape of a utopian society forming, but that’s not what we want. Haven’t we had enough dystopian fictions in human history?”

Lin Si furrowed his brow, realizing what she was trying to convey. “Are you saying that you regret allowing the Voyager to land here?”

Madam Chen nodded solemnly.

“When I asked the model to calculate the probability of our long-term survival on this planet and the continuation of our race, the result was seventy-six percent, so we decided to land. But a few days ago, after noticing this issue, I had it calculate the probability of us preserving, continuing, and developing human civilization, and the result… was only 2.7%.”